


fire and earth

by redstaronmyshoulder (CaptainAmelia22)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Dwarf/Elf Relationship(s), F/M, Relationship Discussions, Unrequited Love, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAmelia22/pseuds/redstaronmyshoulder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theirs is a forbidden love.  Which makes it all the sweeter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fire and earth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ambpersand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambpersand/gifts).



> I've been cleaning house in my google drive today and I just found this oneshot I wrote for my best friend after we saw the second Hobbit film. 
> 
> I'm not great at writing Tolkien fic, but this one seemed pretty decent so I figured I'd publish it, just for the hell of it.
> 
> -M

She woke to fingers in her hair and a deep voice murmuring foreign words over her resting head.  

For a long moment she lay where she was, content under his callused touch and a small smile lifted her lips as his roughened voice continued to croon.  

He had a very nice voice, for a dwarf-it did not match him though, something she had noticed right off, the moment she’d found him in Mirkwood.  She wondered idly, as his voice vibrated through the table the others had laid him upon, just how old he was.  The absence of a beard, when his brother sported a fearsome covering a shade or two darker than his gold hair, most likely meant he was young.  

A babe compared to her.  

Her smile grew at the thought, even as she turned her head just so, so his palm could press into her crown.  

“Your hair is like the finest silk my lady,” he murmured suddenly, in Westron, his deep voice vibrating through the table, her arms and then her head and she found herself focusing on the pitch and timbre of such a mellow tone.  “I have never felt its like.”  

She opened her eyes at that and sat up slowly, her movements as smooth as ever and a deep sense of pleasure washed through her at the sight of his dark eyes-fever free finally-widening.  He was still, sprawled upon the human’s table but he was no longer bleeding and as his fingers trailed through her hair to rest once more upon the table she placed her hand upon his thigh.  

The muscles tensed beneath her gentle touch and a shiver, the like of which she had only felt when she shot her bow and achieved an impossible strike, flitted up her spine at the solid mass of him tensing.  He was built far finer than any of his brethren, but even so he was far broader and thicker than her kind.  

Her fingers stroked the Morgul shaft’s wound and she frowned slightly upon the young dwarf reclining before her.

“My hair is not silken,” she said, her words clipped and cold in the warmth of the human’s home.  The dwarf’s grin slipped at her sudden change in temperament and she sighed internally at the shadowed disappointment replacing his previous care.  “Apologies,” she murmured, her voice a bit gentler now and she bowed her head over his thigh as her cheeks warmed.  She began picking the weed most mortals called Kingsfoil from the wound and said, “I-I do not like speaking of myself.”

He propped himself up on one elbow and reached out a hesitant hand to smooth her hair behind her ear.  “Why?  Surely you know how fair you are?” he asked and her cheeks warmed further as his callused fingers stroked the tip of her ear gently and then moved so the back of his knuckles trailed down her neck.  

Another shiver washed through her and as she washed his wound out she took a deep breath, before turning to him with a shy smile and her bottom teeth caught between her lips.  “You think me fair, young one?” she asked quietly, her voice wondering as he smiled at her pressed his palm gently into the juncture between shoulder and neck.

He simply nodded and then pulled her in for a kiss.  “You are as fair as the stars that sparkle overhead my lady,” he murmured as their lips met and her body yearned absurdly into his touch.  “You are more beautiful than an autumn moon,” he murmured, his mustache rough against her sensitized skin as he trailed his lips along her jawline to press against the pulse beating rapidly in her throat.  “You are the summer days that linger on the threshold of autumn, fleeting and warm but with a faint breath of frost lying under the sunlight.”  

His words thrummed through her and she, Tauriel of the Silvan elves, the King of Mirkwood’s Captain of the Guard and companion to the Prince, found herself wondering.  

Wondering if Dwarves were really not so horrid as Thranduil would have her believe.  

“Your words are flattering, dwarf,” she murmured as she pulled away from him just enough to smile down upon his swarthy face.  He grinned at her and she pressed her fingers to his cheek with a sigh.  “But they are simply words.”  

His grin slipped as she eased her dagger from the sheath at her hip and his mouth popped open as she raised said knife to a fine braid draping her shoulder.  

“For your troubles,” she said as the blade sliced through auburn tresses and the braid fell free to her fingers.  “I will think fondly of you,” she whispered as she pressed her hair, far redder than any of her kin’s and as such not as fair as the dwarf seemed to think, into his palm.  

Then, before he could protest, she was rushing from the human abode, her body refreshed from her errant sleep at the dwarf’s side but her mind far more weary than she had ever felt.  Moonlight streamed around her, cool and welcoming and she raised her head to the stars wheeling above with a sigh, even as she prepared to leap from the balcony to the street below.  She had lost Legolas and thus the orcs.  

She had tarried too long at the dwarf’s side.  

She had-

A hand grabbed her by the elbow and a deep voice rumbled at her back as she was yanked from the balcony, “They weren’t just words, my lady!”

And before she could protest he was grabbing her hands and bringing them to his forehead.  

“You are everything that I said before and more,” he murmured to her, there in the middle of Lake Town and she could not help the smile on her lips as he pressed her hands still tighter to his forehead in obeisance.  “I do not have the words to express your beauty properly,” he said and she could hear the frustration in his voice.  He glanced at her and sighed.  “I simply know that you are my savior and as such, I will always owe you a debt.  So take my token and remember that one of the mountain folk will always whisper your name as he looks upon the moon.”

Her eyes widened as he pressed something round and cool within her hands.  It was the rune-stone, the one his mother had given him and as she raised the stone before her eyes he pressed a gentle, yet ticklish, kiss to the knuckles of the hand he still held in his.  

“You are my moon, my lady, and the only one I will ever care for.”  

Then, as he dropped her hand and turned to once more enter the home he had rushed from she gripped his shoulder gently and turned him to face her.  She did not have to bend nearly as far as some of her kind would have to, to close the little distance between them and as her lips pressed to his she reflected on how that realization would have made her bitter once upon a time.  But now, as she kissed him gently and held his token in her fist, it was an endearing thought.

And one she would hold in her heart forever more.  

“Call me Tauriel,” she murmured as she eased from him and into the shadows of the sleeping village around them.  “Kili of Thorin’s line.  I will think kindly of you till the end of my days.  Be safe.”

His smile, sharp in the moonlight streaming around him, was the last she saw of her dwarf but it was no less sacred to her.  

Sacred and endearing.  

“Be safe,” she murmured as she rushed after her Prince and their query.  “And think kindly of me.”  


End file.
